


Kentucky welcome

by fromthedeskoftheraven



Category: Kingsman (Movies), Pedro Pascal - Fandom
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, Marriage Proposal, spicy talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:21:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27552982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromthedeskoftheraven/pseuds/fromthedeskoftheraven
Summary: An epilogue to Visions of sugarplums. Part two in the Manhattan universe.
Relationships: Jack | Whiskey (Kingsman)/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 49





	Kentucky welcome

“Close your eyes.”

Jack’s honeyed voice draws your attention away from the sun-dappled green of the maple trees that line the long driveway.

“Why?”

“I want you to get the full effect.” His dimpled grin is almost boyish in its teasing happiness.

There’s no request you wouldn’t indulge when it comes wrapped in a smile like that, but it’s probably just as well he doesn’t know it.

With your eyes closed, the world narrows to the soft wind ruffling your hair, the calloused warmth of Jack’s hand enveloping yours, the crunch of gravel under the Bronco’s wheels.

You feel the truck round a bend and slow to a crawl, and your anticipation bubbles over like champagne in a too-full glass.

“Can I open yet?”

“All in good time, darlin’.” You can hear the smirk in Jack’s voice. “Only ever seen you this impatient when my clothes are comin’ off.”

“Maybe they are coming off when we get there.”

He brings your joined hands to his lips, brushing a kiss over your knuckles. “Now, that might almost make a man risk a cracked windshield on a gravel road.”

The Bronco slows even more, stops with a lurch of the gearshift.

The heat of Jack’s body is suddenly close to you and warm breath fans over your cheek with the tease of his lips at your jawline.

“You ready, sugarplum?”

“You know I am, I’ve been waiting for months.” The smile you can’t smother ruins your attempt at an exasperated tone.

His laugh is low, husky. A gentle nip of your earlobe with his teeth makes you squeak with surprise even as goosebumps tingle on your skin.

“Open your eyes.”

You do. And all your mental pictures of Jack’s little Kentucky farmhouse evaporate in the face of reality.

Ever since he promised you this trip you’ve imagined something tiny and quaint, maybe even a little crooked with age. A place with creaky stairs and drafty fireplaces, charming in its sense of history, if not its aesthetic.

What you’re looking at is a sprawling, gracious mansion of a house that would be right at home in a lifestyle magazine.

A wide brick staircase flanked by flower beds leads to a front door painted a cheerful red. Gabled windows are framed by gray shutters and crisp white trim, and a covered porch wraps around the entirety of the house, complete with a cushioned swing. You get a glimpse of French doors leading onto a small patio off to the side and you can already envision the rooms inside flooded with sunlight.

It’s the kind of house you fantasized about when you were a little girl naming your imaginary horses.

“Honey, you all right?”

The note of amusement in Jack’s voice brings you back to the moment.

“Yeah, baby, I’m fine. It’s just…” You trail off, waving your hand to encompass the house. “You said it was a farmhouse.”

He shrugs. “Well, it is. Architecturally speakin’.”

You finally pick your jaw up off of the truck’s floorboards to laugh. “I was picturing something…smaller.”

“The original house was smaller,” he admits. “My granddaddy tore it down and built this place. He had what you might call a flair for showmanship.”

“Oh, so it runs in the family?” you tease.

Jack leans in to press a smile-shaped kiss to your lips under the brim of his hat. “Come on in.”

He grabs both of your bags from the back of the truck and leads the way up the stairs, stopping to unlock the door before ushering you inside.

You get a quick look at hardwood floors, built-in cabinets, and a stone fireplace before following him up a curving staircase with a wrought iron bannister.

“Everything’s so new and pretty,” you tell him, craning your neck to look into a marble-lined bathroom.

“I’ve done some remodeling over the years, doin’ things to my own taste.”

His expensive taste, as you well know and the finishes confirm. Jack might be a country boy at heart, but he’s not shy about enjoying the finer things his generous Statesman salary can buy.

On the other side of an airy landing, Jack elbows open a pair of double doors. “Here we are.“ He turns to you with a sly grin. “This is where the magic happens.”

There’s another fireplace in the corner and a big bed made of glossy, dark wood and dressed in a cloud-like comforter, but you’re drawn like a magnet to the picture window that dominates one wall of the bedroom. Outside, past a cozy patio with a fire pit, a barn and a greenhouse stand by an old oak tree and a wide lawn gives way to lush forest. The afternoon sun paints the whole scene in golden tones, burnishing the leaves of the trees and the barn’s old wood like a Turner landscape.

Jack’s arms slide around your waist from behind, drawing you to lean into the solid breadth of his chest.

“Well, what do you think?”

“Jack, it’s beautiful. I can’t wait to see the rest.”

“I promise I’ll give you the full tour.” He squeezes you a little tighter, nuzzling into your hair.

He dips his head to kiss your shoulder, his mustache tickling the bare skin there. Lingering, he nudges the delicate strap of your sundress off of your shoulder, tracing its path with his lips and drifting back to plant a damp kiss on your neck that sparks a restless warmth in your belly.

“I do seem to recall you sayin’ something about clothes comin’ off,” he drawls into your skin as his hands begin to wander.

“Hmmm.” You tilt your head, pretending to think. “I might have said something like that.”

“Oh, you did.” There’s a smile in the words. “I have an excellent memory for when I’m bein’ propositioned.”

Laughing, you turn in his arms, let him capture your mouth with his in a slow, smoldering kiss.

“All right, cowboy,” you say between kisses, hands light and quick at the buttons of his shirt. “Let’s make some magic.”

***

“Jack,” you breathe on a contented sigh. “That was the best I’ve ever had.”

“Aunt Effie’s apple pie never disappoints.” Jack’s grin is proud as he pushes back from the table to clear your dessert plates.

“The ice cream made it perfect. I could eat that every day.” You get to your feet, picking up the glasses and napkins left behind. At the sink, you wrap your arms around him, indulging in a playful squeeze of his denim-clad ass. “All this, and you’re an amazing cook too. How did I get so lucky?”

He looks pleased to the point of smugness, and you can’t even blame him. “Well, my mama always said ain’t nothin’ attractive about a man who can’t feed himself.”

“I wish I could thank her.”

His smile softens. “She’d have liked you. Always thought I needed a woman who’d keep me on my toes.”

“I try.” You steal a kiss before looking over the debris of pots and pans from the meal. “I’ll wash, you dry?”

Jack glances out the window, shaking his head. “We’ll take care of ‘em later. Let’s go for a walk.”

“Where?”

“Just around the property.” He flashes you the smile that usually goes along with little gifts on your pillow and bouquets of flowers hidden behind his back. “I want to show you somethin’.”

The summer twilight is warm enough that you don’t even need a jacket, a whisper-soft breeze caressing the skin bared by your sundress.

Jack’s holding your hand as you walk through the yard and the birds are calling their good-nights across blushing lavender clouds, and you think you’ve never really known what peace is until now, when you’re taking it in with every breath of freshly cut grass and sunwarmed earth and Jack’s woodsy cologne.

If it’s possible to be happier, you can’t imagine how.

The sky has melted to hazy, gold-edged indigo by the time he leads you into a little clearing in a grove of beech trees, carpeted in grass and a sprinkling of yellow wildflowers.

“This is pretty.” Your voice comes out hushed, though you’re not sure why.

Jack nods. “My cousins and I used to play in these woods all summer long when we were kids,” he says, settling his arms around your shoulders to bring you close. “That’s how I know this is one of the best spots.”

You tuck your head under his chin, content with his heartbeat steady and sure against you. “Best spots for what?”

He only nudges your shoulder, guiding your attention to something behind you. “Look.”

***

Jack wants to etch the way you look right now on his heart, tuck it away to keep forever.

The first tiny light that blinks into life in the clearing has you riveted. When two, three, thirty more join it, your eyes go wide and soft like a doe’s and your lips part with your little gasp of delight.

“Jack,” you breathe. “Fireflies!”

He can’t help but beam at your sheer wonder. “I couldn’t very well come to Kentucky without showin’ my city girl some lightning bugs.”

You’re silent for a long moment, glimmers reflecting in your eyes as you watch the bugs dart around like living fairy lights. “It’s magical,” you finally whisper.

You’re the one with the magic, as far as he’s concerned.

“Thank you for bringing me here.” You turn back to him, soft hands cradling his face for a kiss. “I love it. I love you.”

Jack smiles around the sweet ache of happiness in his chest. “There’s no one I’d rather be with, sweetheart.” His voice grows quieter, almost confessional. “This ol’ place has only been a house to me for a long time now, but it sure does feel like home with you here.”

You slide your arms around his neck, holding him as close as he needs, knowing the old wounds that lie beneath the words.

He trusts you with them. Even when they crack and bleed out his fear to stain the hands that hold you.

“It’s going to be hard to leave,” you say, with a smile in your voice. “It’s so quiet. The city feels a million miles away.”

He leans back to look at you, smoothing a stray lock of hair off of your temple. “Well…what would you think about livin’ here full time?”

“You mean it?” There’s surprise on your pretty face, but it’s not unpleasant. “You really want to leave New York?”

“Champ asked if I’d consider transferring to HQ. He wants me to take over supervisin’ the training of new agents,” Jack admits, chewing the inside of his lip. “I was plannin’ to talk to you about it this weekend, I’m not goin’ anywhere without you and I know he’d be happy as a pig in slop to have us as a package deal.”

He can see the wheels turning in your mind as you nod, looking away across the clearing.

“Hey,” he says, taking your chin gently in hand to draw your gaze back to his. “I’m not tryin’ to give you the hard sell, sweetheart. You take as much time as you need to think about it.”

A warm, grateful smile softens your furrowed brow and your body casts off the tension of a busy mind to melt a little closer into his embrace. He clasps his hands behind your back as your fingers slide to his chest to toy with the buttons on his shirt’s pockets.

“Could I put a vegetable garden in by the greenhouse? I’d need you to build me some raised beds.”

Whatever he was expecting, that wasn’t it. It startles a laugh out of him.

“Honey, I’d fetch the moon down from the sky if it made you happy.” His hands splay over your back, tracing, holding. “You can have a country mile of raised beds if you want it.”

Your answering smile outshines the fireflies. “Let’s do it. Let’s move here.”

“You sure?” he asks, so wildly happy that he’s restraining the urge to lay you down right there among the trees. “I promise you I won’t be disappointed if you’d rather stay put.”

“Jack, it’s beautiful here. It’s where your roots are. We could spend less time in the field, settle down in this gorgeous house of yours and watch the sun rise from the bedroom window.” You reach to stroke his cheek. “I think we’ve earned a little peace, don’t you?”

You barely finish the sentence before his mouth is on yours. He worries for a second that it’s too much, too bruising, but you give as good as you get, curling your hands into his hair while he tastes your sweetness like a starving man.

He presses his forehead to yours as you share a breathless laugh at the tide of emotion that’s surged and ebbed again like a storm.

“Should we go and call Champ now, or wait until morning?” you murmur close to his lips.

He huffs out a laugh. “That’s my girl. Decisive as always…but I’m not ready to go back to the house just yet.” He drops a barely-there kiss on the tip of your nose. “See, there’s one more reason I wanted to bring you out here.”

“You’re full of surprises today,” you say lightly. “What is it?”

Jack is ambushed by the heavy drumbeat of his heart in his throat.

This is the life he thought he’d never have. This is the dream.

“Sweetheart, the thing is…movin’ here with me…I don’t just want you to be Agent Vermouth.”

He slips the little velvet box out of its hiding place in his pocket and sinks to one knee in the cool grass.

“I want you to be Mrs. Daniels.”

He watches shock and joy wash over your face in quick succession. Your sharp intake of breath is almost a hiccup as you look down at him with a trembling smile on your lips.

“Marry me, sweet girl,” he goes on, powerless against the hot prickle of tears. “I’ve been yours since the first time I ever laid eyes on you, and I’d be the happiest man in the world if you’d do me the honor of becomin’ my wife.”

“Oh, Jack.” The words are broken with your own happy tears, and you reach out for him with both hands. “Yes. Yes.”

You meet him as he rises and gathers you into his arms, cradling the back of your head with his hand to bury his face in your neck while the reality of it, of you, settles into the last lonely crevices in the deepest part of him.

His cheek is damp with your crying when you finally break apart. He only shakes his head at your apologetic smile, wiping away the salty tracks from your face with his thumbs.

Carefully, he takes the ring from the box and slides it onto your waiting finger, the diamond catching the moonlight where it sits in its delicate platinum setting.

“It was my granny’s ring. It’s been in the safe deposit box since she died, and I thought it would suit you,” he says, hoping you understand what he’s telling you, that it’s yours, only yours, he’s never given it to anyone else and never will.

“Jack, it’s perfect.” You turn your hand to see the stone sparkle and a breathy, girlish giggle spills from your lips when you look at him again. “I’m going to be your wife.”

He can only kiss you again, slower, deeper.

“Sugarplum, I love you more than words can say.”

You sigh against his lips, the sound of complete contentment. “Well, then.” You slide a hand into the open neck of his shirt to trace his collarbone with your fingertips. “Why don’t you show me?”

Your eyes are bold with want even as your touch is butterfly-soft, almost shy, and the contrast goes to his head faster than Statesman’s finest reserve.

If it’s possible to be happier, he can’t imagine how.

Restraint be damned, Jack sweeps you off of your feet and onto a bed of wildflowers to show you exactly how much he loves you while the trees keep your secrets and the fireflies dance.


End file.
